


This Is For The Lions

by bewitchingthemind



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Autistic Caleb Widogast, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 13:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewitchingthemind/pseuds/bewitchingthemind
Summary: Everyone goes to college for different reasons, some for parties, some to study, and some just to figure it out. But everyone comes out of college with at least some interesting experiences.[Updates weekly, or so.]





	1. Leech Boy

Caleb never adjusted well to changes, even after all he'd been through. New things often came with their own series of variables, not all of which could easily be accounted for. Perhaps that’s why he could feel himself retreating from reality as he sat at the breakfast table. If he chose to ignore what was happening around him, it couldn’t then hurt him, could it? His eyes focussed in almost telescopically on the knot in the wood of the table, tracing mindlessly around the dark eye shaped circle as he tried to will himself to disappear on the breath.

The shifting of the bench drew his gaze away from his knot to Nott, the small goblin crawling up to settle herself on the bench. “How do I look?” she asks with a broad gesture, cheap glittering gems littering her fingers. She did look remarkably different than usual, Caleb would be remiss to not note it. It wasn’t just the cheap sparkly costume jewelry, but she was wearing a good deal of makeup. Though, it unfortunately didn’t suit her very well. The red lipstick was smeared over her sharp teeth, and her foundation gave a sickly tone to her complexion. The rest, however, he couldn’t find much fault in, with his lack of knowledge on the subject. It was a positive indication, he supposes, that she is excited for the future. At least she wasn't like him, an aching wreck of anxiety.

“You look, ah, very nice,” the Zemnian says, grateful that his naturally apprehensive tone would easily conceal his _actual_ apprehension in lying to his best friend. Well, perhaps it wasn’t entirely a lie, but it was not the complete truth. It was proven to be worth it nearly immediately as she grins broadly at the praise. Her smile seemed to ease the knot growing in his stomach, threatening to tie up his intestines in overwhelming pain.

Lithe fingers quickly snatch a piece of bacon from his plate, before she seemingly eats it in a nanosecond. “Good,” she confirms as she swallows, reaching for a pint of ale that was pushed across the table towards her, “I spent, like, 15 gold on all this,” she says with a gesture, “You know, come to find out, the folk tales are true, it really _isn’t_ easy being green.” 

Caleb chuckles quietly before pushing his plate towards Nott, half finished, as was their custom. Nott, however, shakes her head, pushing it back towards him, “No, no, you finish your breakfast, I’ll be fine,” she insists, “I’ll get mine on campus.” Caleb clears his throat, leaning forward, “Have you coin for that?” he asks, “I mean, you just-“ Nott scoffs, waving a hand in dismissal, “Don’t worry about it, any rogue worth their salt can swipe an apple.” Opening his mouth with a thought to protest, Caleb decides in a moment to relinquish to her demands. “Just be _careful_ ,” he insists softly as Nott rolls her eyes. Waving a hand, she inhales as she moves to her feet, “Listen, if I get caught, I fully deserve it. And, anyway, what’re they gonna do? Add it to my tuition, baby.”

“Baby?” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

“I’m trying a new thing.”

“Because of, uh, _him_?”

There is a clear irritation in Nott’s rigid posture, her eyes narrowing as she frowns, “You know, everything I do is not because of some man! I have my own feelings. Maybe I just want to add some new words to my vocab. Is that a crime, Caleb? Lock me up, baby!” she exclaims, before nervously clearing her throat as her ranting draws attention, “I just wanted to look pretty and be cool. This is a totally new place. We’re not just the weirdos who smell like garbage bags anymore, we’re just like anyone else. And _yes_ , the fact that Yeza’s here is very cool and I’m so happy every moment I think about being near him but that’s _not_ the point. I’m doing this for _me_ and also because I really really want to mother his children.”

The disbelief that had taken over Caleb’s features devolves into a small smile and a nod as her crackling voice begins to quiet with the intensity of her rant. “Ja, Nott, I understand. You can change for multiple reasons, not only for a boy,” he asserts with a small nod.

And with that, they push away from their seats, making their way out from the diner beneath their apartment. Living off campus was not their first choice, but after struggling to find accessible dorms, it was just easier to find a small apartment off campus. They sidle into Caleb’s old Toyota, both throwing their bags in back as he drives them towards the college. 

————

Socialising was never a primary concern for the Zemnian; or, well, at least it hadn’t been for quite some time. Getting close to people had proven dangerous in his experience. Still, though, he didn't want to impose that on Nott, and she certainly wouldn't abandon him. She was far too good of a person to see that it was in her best interest. After all, she’d need somewhere to run when he eventually fucked this all up.

It would be difficult not to notice the colorful pair, considering their relative aesthetic brightness in comparison with the stale blue and white of the cafeteria. The blue skinned tiefling is speaking with some animation, gesticulating wildly with a danish, which is rapidly falling apart in her hand. Her style, too, is immediately noticeable. She wears a pastel pink pinafore, which is adorned with an excessive amount of cute enamel pins, some of which seem to be anime related. Her horns, too, are similarly adorned to excess, with chains glimmering with crystals and small charms of foods. His, the enormous byninely grinning firbolg, apparel is significantly more muted, a pair of light blue sweatpants paired with a loose pink tee shirt. The visual contrast between them is instantaneously interesting, even if one were not solely fascinated by their opposing behaviors.

As Nott approaches his side, holding her lunch tray before her, Caleb gestures towards the pair. What he receives in response is an apprehensive expression so often bore by the goblin. “Are you sure about this, Caleb?” she asks, glancing from them, to Caleb, and back to them. Humming thoughtfully, he shrugs, “What is life but a series of calculated risks, ja? You’ll, ah, you’ll be _fine_ , Nott, do not worry,” he insists calmly as he approaches them, placing down his tray thoughtlessly, sliding his computer down more gracefully. After all, it is the most expensive thing he owns.

“Oh, hey, there. New folks,” the firbolg says, the deep rumble of his voice the most immediately comforting thing Caleb has experienced in a long time. In fact, he _almost_ cracks a smile. “I’m-“ he begins, but is immediately cut off by the enthusiastic tiefling.

“I’m _Jester_ , and this is Dueces!” she says excitedly, in a rather fascinating idiolect.

The firbolg, or Dueces, waves a hand and smiles, “Caduceus, Caduceus Clay,” he says congenially as he extends an extremely large hand. Caleb offers a nod as he takes it, clearing his throat as he gestures between himself and Nott, “Ah, nice to meet you, Caleb, and my little friend is Nott.”

“She’s not your friend?” Caduceus asks, turning his head as he slowly blinks.

Caleb smiles, then, and waves a hand, “Ah, no, no, her name is Nott.”

Caduceus furrows his brows thoughtfully, “Well, that’s just very confusing,” he insists, and Caleb is unsure if this is a joke before a warm smile crosses Caduceus' face, “Very nice to meet you, Nott and Caleb. Are you freshman as well?” he asks.

Jester leans forward, as if she might explode if she was silent another second, “Deuces and I are Clerics, so we met earlier today. It was pretty fun but also pretty boring, but it was _pretty_ fun. I don’t get it though because, I can just talk to The Traveler to learn all the spells I want,” she says, the wild gestures returning again. “I guess then I’m not technically a qualified cleric technically, but who cares?” she gestures broadly as she waves both hands. “ _So_ , what are you guys studying?” she asks, turning now more fully towards them.

Nott seems to not quite know what to do with all of Jester’s energy, but she manages to respond far before Caleb had fully processed what had just gone on. “Ah, well, I’m a rogue, you know, just…uh, I’m learning a bit of magic from Caleb,” she says, nodding towards him, “But not, you know, I’m just a regular old rogue,” she says, shrugging both shoulders and smiling. “Caleb’s, uh, he’s a wizard, obviously,” she says, earning a raised brow from the Zemnian.

It was a common joke, that the weaker the human, the more powerful wizard they were. And Caleb was, indeed, a scrawny motherfucker. It had always been his opinion that this trend represented a some kind of power complex. After all, what did the physically adept need with focussing on the arcane? Caleb, however, wasn’t entirely sure if his interest was in power, or simply in the thrill of knowledge; it was his feeling that it was _certainly_ more likely to be a desire for power. Though, in moments where he felt more favorable towards himself, as rare as they were, it was notable that the real thrill of learning was sometimes the learning itself.

Those thoughts only lasted a moment, as Caduceus’ voice quickly broke through Caleb’s reprieve into self doubt, “Oh, now, that’s nice,” he says with a broad smile, “A wizard and a rogue, what an interesting pair. Are you two brother and sister?” The question immediately struck Caleb as odd; of course, very few people would ever consider such a possibility. He’d never had anyone realise their relationship upon first meeting, they were usually taken for boyfriend and girlfriend long before anyone brushed near the correct response.

“More or less,” Caleb says softly, “We, were, you know, in the same foster house,” he says, inhaling as his eyes glance towards Nott. Her surprised expression doesn’t escape the notice of Jester, who turns her head almost comically quick, but doesn’t speak. “A year or two ago now, ah, so we’re not siblings in _law_ , but we…they were nice, treated us like…like our parents might’ve,” he says, slowly, as if unsure how to put the feelings into words.

Jester pouts thoughtfully, leaning forward, "So, you're not _really_ brother and sister, just kind of?" she offers, which receives a half hearted nod and shrug from Caleb, "What's it like to have siblings? I never had any, it was always just me." She leans forward, the question rather innocent, though it seems to strike the other two as challenging.

"Ah, I don't have any blood siblings," Caleb mutters quickly.

Nott speaks, her tone almost unsure if it was the correct word, "Horrible," she says. "Yeaaaah," Caduceus says in agreement, "They're pretty horrible, most of the time, but sometimes," he gestures vaguely as Nott frowns, "Maybe not for some. It's a hard thing to explain, I'm afraid." Jester listens, leaning her head against her fist until she nods, accepting their answer.

It wasn't quite like Nott _felt_ how Caleb expected it would feel to have a sister. Though they'd now been living together for a little over a year, it still felt like living with your best friend. Perhaps there was some sort of developmental stage in which two people had to live together in order to feel like _proper_ siblings. He was wrapped up in these thoughts when a lavender skinned Tiefling took the seat beside him, a tall human woman standing just behind Jester.


	2. Lavander Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night of drag at the Moondrop Tavern.

Mollymauk could always tell a good mark on a glance, and that blue tiefling was definitely a good mark. Absolute innocence seemed to sparkle in her eyes; he could just imagine her as one of those horse obsessed girls, clutching a brightly colored ring binder and insisting that everyone followed the rules. It was a snap judgement, surely wrong on some account, but it leant itself to his purposes.

Leaning across the table towards her, he smiles, his red eyes flickering towards the others sat around her, “Hi,” he says warmly immediately noticing the way the woman’s attention fixes to him. “Now, forgive my trespass, but you give me the impression that you could do with a bit of guidance,” he says, flashing a bright smile, his tone poised with practice, “And I’d like to give that to you. You see, I would be delighted to read your fortune for you.” Sure, it was an odd advertising technique, but when it worked, it worked.

“Read my fortune?” she repeats, an air of excitement in her voice as it pitches upwards, “Oh, yes, please!” she says with a matching grin. “Do you know my name?” she asks with some glee.

“What's your name?” Molly immediately asks. She grins, “Jester!” she supplies with some joy. “I know your name now,” he responds coyly, and they, along with the firbolg, laugh together. 

“And what’s your name?” the little goblin asks, for the first time drawing Molly’s attention to her.

“Mollymauk, Molly to my friends,” he says with a small gestures, “And we’re friends now, so, Molly,” he insists. The goblin girl looks minutely softened by his response, but it doesn’t escape Molly’s notice that she doesn’t offer her name, nor either of her compatriots.

The tall pink haired man leans forward, his expression purely of interest - he’d likely be at least as easy as her, though she seemed far more excited by the concept. Molly decides in the moment that he’d made the correct decision in choosing her, and even if he hadn’t, there was no sense muddying up the situation any further.

Swiftly, he pulls out his deck from the inside of his colorful bomber jacket, “Now, I am only the interpreter, the cards themselves are the real predictors,” he says as he leans in towards her, shuffling the deck between his hands, as if carefully considering some great distant being. Pulling one, he rests it face down on the table as he meets her gaze, his palm still over the card, “Now, please, take this as you will,” he says, his grave tone adding to the drama in spite of having said almost nothing at all.

Turning over the card dramatically, he hums thoughtfully, “The Silver Dragon,” he nods, brushing a hand through his purple hair, then moving to fidget thoughtfully with a silver bobble hanging from his horns, “Yes, this is very good, it indicates you are of great virtue. At your core, you’re a good person,” he insists, earning a bright smile from the girl.

“Ooh!” is all she manages before he slaps down another card more insistently.

Just out of the corner of his eye, he sees the ginger lean back, muttering softly to himself, his eyes flashing white for the briefest of moments. Molly maintains his focus, best he can, in order to fight the urge to smirk.

“The Anvil!” he proclaims, now fully wrapped in the drama, nodding sagely to himself, “A destiny forged, you are beginning an important time in your life, which will have a great effect on your future,” he says, his eyes fixed intently on hers.

She perks immediately, “Oh! I just started college! The cards are so true! Oh man, what else?” she asks, seeming to only grow more interested. Molly hums and inhales deeply, “I’m afraid that’s all the cards are telling me for now,” he says, reaching out and patting her hand delicately, “I am merely a vessel, but I can tell they’ve left now,” he says with a small nod.

Jester turns over her shoulder to look at Yasha, who has been standing over her, vaguely tutting on occasion, feigning being dazzled by his display extraordinarily poorly. “Incredible,” Yasha deadpans, finally unfolding her arms as she shifts awkwardly. Perhaps she’d only just noticed how incredibly intimidating she’d just seemed, with her ripped black jeans and emphasised biceps. Molly offers her a serene smile in return, “I believe you’ve failed to introduce yourself?” he offers as a prompt.

Turning towards the girl behind her, Jester grins broadly, “Oh!” she perks, “I’d forgotten you were there, I’m Jester!” she says, as if Yasha didn’t already know that, “And this is Cadeuces, Caleb, and Nott!” she says, pointing first to the firbolg, the human, and the goblin. At least that had been new information, and Yasha nods, finally relenting, “Ah, Yasha, nice to meet you,” she says.

It’s Caleb who sits forward slightly, gesturing to the space beside Nott, “Why don’t you, uh, sit down?” he offers, his accent was certainly different; Molly is quite sure he hasn’t had that particular dialect before. The firbolg smiles broadly as Yasha takes the seat beside Nott, “How do you two know each other, then?” he asks curiously, glancing between them.

Molly is immediately grateful for the question, as it really cut to the rub of why he’d made his way here, “We work together, at the fabulous Moondrop Tavern, we have incredible shows there. In fact, there’s a very good one on tonight, and I think you would all enjoy it. Have you all ever been to a drag show?” he asks as he leans forward.  
Jester almost seems afire with curiosity, “Oh! I haven’t! But it seems like so much fun. We should totally go,” she enthuses, before slapping her hand down quickly on the table, “I bet my roommate would love to come! She told me earlier that she’s just here to party, so I can only imagine this would be right up her alley.”

“Well then, you have to bring her,” Molly insists in a warm tone as he reaches forward to graze purple fingers against blue. He turns towards the others, straightening slightly, “Is it your first year here?” he asks, glancing around at the group.

Caleb nods, “Ja, we are all…ah, freshman,” he says, licking his lips, glancing towards the others as if seeking confirmation.

“Even him?” Molly asks with a playful smile, gesturing towards the pink haired firbolg. The other smiles warmly, his eyes fixing on Molly’s, as if for the first time. He nods, his brows drawing together slightly, clearly somewhat unsure where the question had come from.

————

The club was pretty packed, even surpassing Molly's expectations, which were as high as ever. Behold Her was truly a hell of a performer, and Molly is sure she won’t be in their midst for too much longer. That was the unfortunate matter of such things; though you could make quick and powerful friendships, it was never too long before they were off to bigger and better places.

Behind the bar, Molly is in his element. The sort of dance between customers, grabbing this bottle and that, was equal parts stressful and delightful. On occasion, Molly liked to consider himself a shepherd of debauchery. He only gave his patrons the tools to have a good time, and that was a pure delight - Well, at least, most of the time.  
There is a shift through the crowd around the bar as a woman makes her way forward. The tight fade of her undercut and the cut of her top revealing her washboard abs quickly gives Molly all of the information he needs. This woman was probably equipped to handle herself in most circumstances. She sits down and nods, “I’ll, like, just give me a neat whiskey,” she says with more authority than her unsure words would suggest, her brown eyes fixed on red. Molly smirks, swaggering backwards to pull out a glass and pour the drink as she continues, “The girl at the door, is she - “

“Almost everyone is, here.”

“Thank God,” she says, resigning into her seat slightly with a smile, “What’s her name?” she asks, leaning forward intently. “Maybe you should ask her that,” Molly immediately retorts, placing the drink down before her, “I’m sure she’d love the company.” The fact of the matter is, certainly, that she would not.

“Nah,” the girl responds, half into her glass; at least she was perceptive enough to see that. It was clear from her tone that while she was into Yasha, she was just too intimidated to speak to her. At least it was then clear she was in her right mind, anyway. Molly nods, “And what’s your name? I’ll pass it on to her if she asks,” he says with a half smile as he leans towards her.

Though he had other patrons, he had made the executive decision to allow Bo to handle them for the moment.

“Beau,” she says, after finishing off her glass in one long gulp.

He offers her a pleasant smile, “I’m Molly, pleased to meet you,” he says warmly, “We’re open every night, you know, you’re more than welcome here. Why haven’t I seen you here before?”

Beau shrugs a shoulder, running a hand over her undercut as she shrugs a shoulder, “I only just got to Zadash, I go to the college nearby,” she says, sitting forwards, “But I’ll be sure to come back, especially if she’s here,” she says, gesturing towards the door with a warm smile.

————  
With all of his strength, Molly pulled tightly on the cord, before winding them together into a knot. Be groaned, stroking their hands over their reduced waist and then over the thick padding at their hips. The undergarment stage of drag always looked decidedly weird, though Molly found it fascinating. It’d taken years of ingenuity to even get to this point. The backstage door opened just as Molly went to fetch Behold’s bottle of water, “It looks like Orna had to cancel for the night,” Yasha says, her voice as soft as ever, even when delivering such news.

Molly furrows his brows as Be met his gaze, “You up to it tonight?” they ask after a long moment's pause. “Have you got something I can throw together? What about that gown I wore last time? The peacock one? I never gave that back to Mona,” he says, stepping backwards towards the closet. Be scrunches their nose, “I haven't seen it in a while, which at least means it’s probably not at home,” they say, scratching at their jaw.

Climbing into the closet was the only real way to find the dress. Molly was sweating by the time he found it. From up top, he haphazardly snatched a long red wig from the back and took it to the vanity to cut two slits in the top, lucking into the placement being relatively correct for his horns. It took some suggestion and help from Be and Yasha to get both the dress and wig on, but eventually Molly managed it.

It hadn’t initially occurred to him to do much of anything to adjust his figure, in spite of having just spent a good deal of time assisting Be with just that. However, it’s when Be points out, “You wanna borrow a chestplate?” that Molly notices how the gown gaps just slightly there. He relents quickly and half shimmies the dress down, just barely managing to pull it on over his wig. 

Molly knows his make up could be better, but it’s not as if there was much makeup designed to compliment his skin tone, so he’d just have to make do. 

The dress was a dark green, the silhouette not dissimilar from a 1920’s maxi dress. It just skimmed over his hips and flared just barely as it reached the floor. Covered in glittering crystals and long bright peacock feathers, it certainly drew attention. It was sheer luck, how it seemed to perfectly match his personality. Molly pulled on the silk green gloves as he stood in his kitten heels, waiting off to the side of the stage. It wasn’t period accurate, but considering half of the costume was far too small, it was the best he could manage.

As Molly got onstage, his eyes found the group he’d met earlier, half uncomfortable, half enraptured as he took to the stage. Feeding off the crowd was certainly a very real sensation; Molly could nearly feel the energy of their gaze on him as he trotted dramatically across the stage, feeling himself embody the song playing over the speakers. It was like dancing alone in your bedroom, but thirty times as good.

The crowd threw tips onto the stage, a factor Molly had barely even recalled was certainly part of this experience. It had been too much of a rush to think about much past the next seconds of getting on the stage. As his song finished, he quickly scooped them up before disappearing between the curtains behind him to allow the real show to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that this is somewhat inspired by Friendly Competition! Or, at least, I read part of it and it made me want to write this. The drag thing is mentioned there as well, so it seemed appropriate to mention, I am not positive I would have thought of that independently but it works SO well. Uh, I think that's all I need to say? Maybe??
> 
> Friendly Competition: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17634050/chapters/41579228


	3. Blood in the Cut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late! It's my birthday this weekend and I'm running my first D&D game, so next week might also be late. Sorry if that matters to you, I'll try and do better in the future. Also, I just realised every chapter has a blood reference in it and I'm REALLY sorry. lol

It was the blistering light of the morning that illuminates red over Beau’s eyelids. As she blinks, bleary eyed, she reaches beside herself and comes back wanting. That, at least, was a good thing, she supposes. Goodbyes never got easier. Stretching as she takes in a deep lungful, there is a sickening ache in her head, though she knows it will likely subside sooner rather than later. After her phone buzzes, she quickly palms it to check the well timed message.

**Keg**

thanks

Awash with a sense of pride, Beau smirks and dismounts from her bed. Sleepily adorning her robe and sandals, she heads down the hall towards the showers. Gratefully, it seems to be early enough for the showers to be pretty empty. In spite of herself, Beau continued to wake up at 5am, after having been forced to do so every day at the monastery.

Inhaling the familiar humid water within the shower, she feels her aching muscles begin to relax.It soaks into the bruises that litter her flesh, and so into her lungs. Apart from her activities last night, this had to be her favorite thing to do naked. A hot shower could cure about anything, at least physically.

In a few hours, she was attending a new class, as most of them alternated. This was one called ‘Managing your inner power’ - it sounded like a load of shit, but it was required to finish her degree. Apparently the classes were mostly barbarians, as there weren’t too many monks in the public education system.

Working with the expositors had made it in her best interest to join the public educational system. The other monks in her classes were largely unaffiliated, or belonged to the Drunken Way which was broadly an order with no monastery of their own.

——

Beauregard sat in the very back of the classroom, having skated in early so as to cement herself in the back of the classroom. She half slung herself over her chair, rifling through her backpack for her notebook. Though it may be a barbarian heavy classroom, Beau didn’t believe it was as easy as her peers implied.

The Search For That Fucking Notebook™ took a great deal of time, but once she finished, Beau realised the class had begun to more or less fill out. After placing the wiley notebook down onto her desk, she clears her throat, though her eyes meet a mismatched pair across the room.

_Oh, God_ , she was cute as hell. Her mostly black hair was pulled into a low ponytail - it was a softness that when compared to her expression practically turned Beau’s insides into writhing snakes.

All of that staring hadn't gone unnoticed, unfortunately.

Yasha looks to her, a clear sense of grave concern taking her features as Beau tries to appear as if she’s just snapping out of a day dream before mouthing ‘sorry’. Gratefully, Yasha seems to accept this, and Beau relaxes ever so slightly. Still, though, it was definitely _weird_ , and not really because it was so very gay.

Noting a decidedly empty space beside the other, Beau grabs her bag and notebook and moves to settle in, “Is it alright?” she asks, at which the other girl considers her for a moment, “O-of course, why wouldn’t it be?” It was a fair question, but Beau took it rhetorically, though by the other’s expression it wasn’t meant to be.

“Sorry, you just seemed familiar. I saw you at the club last night, right?” she says with a smile as taller girl slowly nods, “Well, I’m Beauregard, or Beau, whatever,” she insists, extending her hand.

“Yasha,” she says, and Beauregard immediately whispers, “ _Yasha_ ,” to herself before grinning. “That’s a really nice name. Anyway, I’m excited to be in this class together. You know, outside of my roommate I’ve just been sort of -“ Beau falters ever so slightly as a half-orc stands before them, seemingly waiting for the appropriate moment to walk through them.

“If you don’t mind,” he offers in a soft southern drawl as he makes his way through them. Beau relents and nods as she slinks back, deciding this interruption had _definitely_ thrown off her game, and not her already nauseating crush on the woman beside her.

——

Beau groans as she sets her heavy book on the table, after Jester’s prying, “I’m just saying, you spend a small fortune on all of these fucking books, and, like, for what reason?” she says, her tone exasperated.

There’s a slight cock to Yasha’s head, her black hair catching the light to create a beautiful sort of halo effect around her. “Well, I don’t have any books,” she says softly, a small pout taking her features. Jester was the first to interject, though Beau shared the sentiment, “Really?”

“It’s not like a book is gonna teach me how to fly into a rage at the drop of a hat or anything.”

“Is that what most of your classes are like?” Jester asks, leaning forward, though Beau speaks over her, “Oh my _God_ at least that makes sense! I have to read all of these stupid books about _physics_! Physics! I can’t even - they say it’s to help us learn how to more effectively control our ki and become better monks. But, like, I just wanna punch shit. The rest of this nerd bullshit is so boring.”

Gratefully, Beau’s jock facade made her statement fly as the complete truth, a fact she was grateful for. After all, she isn’t sure if Yasha would take well to how much she absolutely _loves_ physics.

“The limited resource management class we’ve got is cool, though,” Beau relents, gesturing between herself and Yasha, “Don’t you think?” she offers, feeling herself desperate to get Yasha to speak, though she doubts it’s really apparent in her delivery. Yasha only nods and Beau relents; it was going to be a bit harder to crack her than that, wasn’t it.

Shifting, Beau inhales, “Weren’t you talking about some…guy? Like, a scrawny half-orc with a southern accent?” she says, the thought clicking with Jester just as she finishes speaking.

“Ooooh!” she exclaims, almost interrupting, “Oh, yes, Oskar! You saw him?”

Beau pokes her tongue into her cheek for a moment and nods, “Yeah, he’s in our resource management class, but, like, no way he’s a barbarian, and he’s not a monk. What’s that leave? Like, warlock?”

Jester pulls a face and looks to Yasha, who only turns her head as she considers the possibility, “What, like he sold his soul to…a devil?”

“Well, that’s one type of warlock,” Yasha says softly, “I guess we don’t know.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” Beau says, trying to resist her urge to turn into the heart eyes emoji as she meets Yasha’s gaze. She was just grateful that she’d spoken for more than a few words.

“I wouldn’t care either way,” Jester shrugs, “I’m just curious about him, that’s all, it’s not a big deal, I was just on the same bus as him as we came up here. We didn’t really talk about that sort of thing, you know, we were just talking about how he was an orphan and I was telling him about my mom. She’s really great,” she says, gesturing towards Yasha, “You should meet her. And you too, Beau, she’s the best, my mom. Have you heard of her? She's the Ruby of the Sea?” she asks, though Beau and Yasha shake their heads in unison, causing the blue tiefling to sigh wistfully.


	4. Candy Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jester gets into her usual antics, all is delightful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY I am so late! Life has been....a lot. It's been a LOT. I'm also sorry this isn't as thoroughly edited as past chapters, and this might be a bit shorter. Neither of these things are representative of my deep love for Jester Lavorre. I am hopefully going to be regular once more after this, but if you were looking forward to it, I'm sorry it's not as good as it could have been. 
> 
> Also, no blood reference in the title! Whee!

Having blue skin was a bit of a challenge, when it came to finding the _exact_ right shade of pink. Everything bought offline require rigorous calculations in order to ensure _maximum_ cuteness would be achieved. It wasn’t that pink and blue looked bad together, but when it skewed too red it…it just _wasn’t_ going to work. Sighing heavily at her reflection, she adjusted the oversized soft pink hoodie over her shoulder, trying to decide where it should sit for the day. 

It was covered in trinkets from Sailor Moon, one of Jester’s absolute favorite shows, which was complemented by thigh high cat stockings. For Jester, it was a bit toned down, as she resisted the urge to decorate her navy hair with all sorts of bobbles. Later on today, she had a study session scheduled, and she isn’t sure if she should be excited or consumed by dread. It seemed appropriate for the occasion to be slightly less extra than usual.

Hiking her bag over her shoulder, she smiles broadly at her reflection, “All is good! You are making friends, things are going very well, and The Traveler will be pleased with you.” Beau had caught her saying her daily affirmations once, this past weekend. It had been _pretty_ embarrassing, but luckily Beau only patted her shoulder and walked past. 

——

Stashing the spray paint can back into her pink satchel, Jester grins proudly. Before fleeing the scene, she quickly casts thaumaturgy on the trash cans outside of the bar. On a whim, she alters her appearance, immediately taking on the countenance of a cop she’d seen a few blocks away.

Walking up to the door, she knocks assertively, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes, officer?” the owner asked, a moment after opening the door. He wiped his hands off on his apron, his brow furrowed as he stepped out of the old pizza shop.

Jester takes on her grumpiest _most_ disgruntled voice as she addresses him, “I’m afraid there’s going to be _some_ bother here, your sign is quite vulgar, and that phallus, while excellently rendered, is most _definitely_ indecent,” she affirms, pointing up to the sign above the store which now read ‘Dick’s Penisaria’ with a detailed illustration of a penis underlining the words.

Looking up, Dick’s jaw drops, before his face contorts in anger.“That’s - I didn’t - That was _not_ me it’s - It’s just Rick’s Pizzaria! I didn’t,” he says, clearing his throat. His face is now bright red, and it’s becoming quite a struggle for Jester not to break out into laughter, “I will find who did this, sir, and I will - they’ll,” he says, clasping his hand.

At that, Jester couldn’t help but laugh, her hand on her stomach as she nods, “Good luck!” she asserts, patting his shoulder as she walks away. Dick remains staring at her as she leaves, a satisfied smirk on her features. It was probably strange to hear such a high laugh from the grisled face of the officer, but it certainly wasn’t quite enough for him to be clued into her deception.

——

Studying had never been Jester’s strong suit; she’d been homeschooled, even, and proved a somewhat challenging pupil for the instructor her mother had hired. Alas, she had muddled through it well enough. Getting her degree, though, would be a way to prove her devotion to The Traveler and cement her status as his _greatest_ follower. Of course, she was already his favorite, but she needed all of the acumen she could acquire.

Walking into the library, she finds the little Goblin girl and the ginger boy she’d met the other day; she’d had a long text thread with Nott, but she only really knew Caleb by proxy. Setting her books down, she grins broadly, only barely noticing Caleb flinch at the heavy sound of her books hitting the table.

“Sorry,” she says, her tone sticky sweet as she meets Caleb’s gaze. He shakes his head in dismissal, his eyes fixing instead on his papers as he shuffles them about, “What are you working on?” she asks, leaning over to view his work. To be honest, she couldn’t make hide nor hair of it.

Blue eyes glance over her, but never quite meet hers as he shakes his head, looking off into the middle distance, “Oh, I’m just studying up on the origins of, uh, a few spells. I can’t quite use them just yet, but, ah, we have to write a paper on the development of a low level spell of our choice,” he says, pouting as he adjusts to look back down at his paper.

Jester pouts as she watches him, “Well, what did you choose? My favorite spell is _probably_ the one where you can charm people into doing what you want, _or_ disguising yourself. They’re _very_ useful if you wanna play a little bit of a joke,” she says, broadly smiling as she continues to speak.

It’s a curious look that meets hers, though he doesn’t quite respond. He was a curious person, and Jester was only finding him more interesting the longer she spent in his company.

“We were thinking about throwing a little…like a, really small, party,” Nott interjects, glancing towards Caleb, who seems almost immediately lost in his notes. It’s either that, or he’s decided to feign not being present. “Anyway,” she waves vaguely, “You’re invited, and so is Beau. We already asked Molly. Well, I did,” she says, gesturing to herself as she inhales, “And I think Caduceus is coming? I’m never really sure how much he gets of what I say. Oh, and I _told_ Molly to invite Fjord,” she says, gesturing with her pencil.

Jester’s eyes immediately go wide, “Wait, _Fjord_ is going to be there? Oh my God,” she says, her heart immediately racing at the thought, “What should I wear? Like, do I - wait, I mean, not like I like him,” she says, waving a hand, “I just, you know, he _totally_ likes me, so,” she shrugs.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Nott agrees.

“I suppose we will just have to go shopping,” Jester says, gesturing between herself and Nott. She’s surprised by the expression of terror on Nott’s face as she looks to Caleb, “Oh, I don’t,” Nott says with a frown as a pained expression takes Caleb’s features. 

“No, you can do what you like, Nott,” he says, his voice soft, clearly meaning to only speak to Nott. “But, we _can’t_ aff-,” Nott began but Jester cut into her sentence swiftly.

“Oh, I would _never_ invite you out shopping if I wasn’t going to pay for it all! No, it’s my treat. And you could really do with some more clothes, you wear sweaters as dresses every day!” she asserts brightly.

“You are wearing a sweater as a dress,” Caleb counters.

Quickly waving him off, Jester tuts, “Yes, but my sweater is _meant_ to be a dress. You’re just wearing clothes for humans that are _way_ too big for you. It’s not the same thing at _all_.”


End file.
